The Cobras intro to Ghosthood
by BloodiedCoreOfHope
Summary: Waking up to Ambulances is never a good sign, especially when you're already dead. When the Cobra woke up to Ambulances, he was not the brightest tool in the box so it took him awhile to twig on.


When you wake up to ambulances screaming, it's obviously going to shock you dead awake no matter what happened before, Course, if you're already dead that probably makes you a ghost.

Billy Joe Cobra, or Baruch Cohen as he did _not_ prefer to be known, wasn't having the greatest day. He'd gotten back from his final stop on tour yesterday, and while it was totally worth it for all those screaming fans in Tokyo, it had left him drained. Like, battery that's normally on charge all the time because its so damn hyper loses its charger and has no life left, drained.

So, he went straight to sleep once he got back from tour. He only got up once in the nigh for a bathroom back, and to close the door to his house he was sure he'd shut when he came in. Weird, right? Well, that wasn't too bad, so why wasn't he having the best day? That comes later, when he wakes up to freaking ambulances.

To make matters worse his manager was stressing over something he wouldn't mention and would not listen to Billy. At all. Seriously, he'd gone up to him and damn near yelled in his ear, no distraction. Worst. Time. Ever! He hadn't been ignored without a disguise for ages, not since he was picked up by his manager to be a popstar when he was 6 anyway! Anyway, Manager Mc. Stressed-out opens the door and some dudes with medical gear and bright green uniforms that are kinda shiny walk in and are very quickly on the elevator to his room. Are you confused yet? Yeah, so was the Cobra at this point.

The dashed into his room and pulled back the covers to his bed, and he was about to run up to them and give them an earful when he caught sight of what lay in the bed. Rapidly breathing, eyes closed, sweat covered, and looking insanely ill in all the ways possible, lay himself.

Now, Billy Joe Cobra is a pretty vain guy, and normally he'd be happy to stare at his face all day, but when he looks that ill? Not good for the mojo. He's kind of relieved, really, when the green dudes put his body on a stretcher and were moving down and out of his house, weird mannequin thing of himself that was probably some stunt gig and all.

He followed them shortly, still chattering aimlessly, trying to get them to notice him. No such luck, and he was forced to sit in an ambulance van, very annoyed, confused and. Why was there an ambulance van, anyway? he wasn't doing an action movie that needs that sort of stuff till next month…

The mannequin suddenly started jerking around, and the green guys rushed to him. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped, and suddenly Billy felt a heck of a lot colder. He looked around to see what was happening, perhaps there was a window open? Nothing caught his eye, until he saw the mirror and his reflection, or lack thereof. He yelped in surprise and scrambled backwards, falling through the wall of the van he was in. Shivering partly from the cold and partly from the shock, he brought his hands up to his eyes, just to see that they were still there.

They were, just all white and transparent, same for everything, it all looked like it was fading out of the visible spectrum. Not nice at all.

The Cobra did the only thing he could do, and ran back to his house, although flew would be more accurate. He somehow caught a little snippet of a conversation as he moved up to his room to do something, anything, normal. "He's Dead!? Why? … Poisoning? Who would want to poison Billy…"

Dead. That meant he was a ghost, right? If he was a ghost, he probably wouldn't be able to record any more singles. Wouldn't be able to carry on messing with his stupid strict Manager _who was crying downstairs-_ and he wouldn't be able to see any of his family again, at least, not properly… Heck, he wouldn't be able to see anyone!

Would people forget about him, now that he was dead? His music would stop reaching ears, and would stop helping poor people to have any joy in their lives! Bad situation was an understatement! He needed to get

With a frustrated yell, he ran into another room, flinching as he _passed through_ the freaking door. He slowed down pretty quick, though, when he realized where he was. This was the always locked room where his instruments from ages ago were left to gather dust because they didn't have the colour scheme for him anymore or something else that was just as trivial. Looking around curiously, he went to pick up a guitar almost ready to feel a shiver through his hand, and was given the opposite response. His hand gained a very solid grip, and he lifted it up. A small smile lit up his greyish features, washing them in a wave of blue.

With a determined grin, he placed it to his chest and began strumming his fingers to familiar tunes, remaking and creating so much more music than he thought he remembered having done before. He was lucky the room was soundproof, really, because it meant that he could get entirely lost in his music without having to really realize properly that he was a ghost. Without having to realize that everyone around him was moving on, and that his Manager had left after the second week. He didn't have to notice the people taking away Wendy, or the funeral in his garden

He wouldn't really have had to notice at all when the estate agents came to appraise his house either, but he did for one reason: they had broken down the door to the music room he had resided in for nearly a month (How did that much time pass, anyway?) to appraise it. They left it alone, in the end, and replaced the door. Soon enough, though, he heard loud vans coming, louder than his music, and had to stop playing, simply for the sake of investigating the vans.

Investigate he did, and found some wacko family of four just waltzing in with movers behind. The littlest kid, a small girl with her black hair in a ponytail was grinning at… something, in the air. Suddenly, she leapt up and through him, aiming for one of his statuettes with a killer karate kick ready to destroy his perfect image.

With a cry of outrage, he threw himself towards it and -holy cow was he flying- wrapped himself protectively around it. Her leg bounced harmlessly off of his back, and he was treated to the lovely sensation of his back wobbling like jelly while she bounced off, confused. He shuddered, maybe he should have just stayed with his music… That thought was cut off, though, when the son (He couldn't have been more than 12!) ran to the elevator to his room, and yelled out to his parents: "I'm just going to check out my room, I'll be down to help out in a bit!"

Oh hell no.

The kid ignored his desperate attempts to prevent him from entering and just walked, dead casually, through him and into his room. _His_ room. The one that hadn't been touched except to clean it up when the house people approached, because it was BILLY JOE FREAKING COBRA'S room! They left the awesomeness alone, and with good reason, just for this little kid to get his paws all over it? Not happening!

Annoyed, he grabbed a lot of stuff off of the dresser, harmless enough stuff, pendants, watches, a belt… and started lobbing it at the kid. The kid's eyes went wide, and he grinned. "Cool, a ghost!" He went diving into a bag. pulling out a camera, before promptly gasping in shock. A cold weight had landed around his neck, and he suddenly heard a ranting ghost.

"-Ugh! Look, it's bad enough that I died, still don't know HOW, but then this family of weirdos come in and are cramping my style? Not cool bro! AGH! Take this lamp, eh? Take this beautiful lamp with MY FACE on it, and shove it in yours you little-!"

"Um, Ghost dude, chill!" The kid jumped up, dropping his camera in favour of putting his hands up to catch the lamp that an enraged Billy had ready in his hands to throw at him.

Billy paused, this wasn't supposed to happen. "Uh, you can see me?"

"I guess so, but only since this... Necklace with your face on it? Landed around my neck. Can you keep haunting me and stuff? I want to film horror films and this is awesome!"

"Horror films? Dude! Those are scary!"

"You're a ghost."

"I am? Uh, yeah! But still scary! Listen, just don't play any of them to me, please? They're super scary bro!"

"OK… I'm Spencer Wright, by the way."

"Billy Joe Cobra. How did you get into films anyway…?"

And that was how Billy Joe Cobra and Spencer Wright made friends, and began haunting him/ following him everywhere.

 **A.N**

 **So, the BJC making friends with Spencer? TADA.**

 **Review if you enjoyed, and especially if you didn't.**


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